Tear in My Heart
by AmazinglyMediocre
Summary: "Sometimes you've gotta bleed to know that you're alive and have a soul. But it takes someone to come around to show you how." -'Tear in My Heart', twenty one pilots. Developing Romanogers, set post-Ultron. Minor character death.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! This is going to be a sequel to Shut Up and Dance, though it isn't really necessary to read before this. The first couple of chapters are going to be kind of angsty, but I promise they'll lighten up. Also, I'm going to work a little on point of view for this one, so bear with me. Enjoy!**

Steve quietly stood and left after a while, finding his way through the debris of a party long ended and stepped into the stairwell. He didn't feel like taking the elevator, which was likely full of even more trash. His footsteps were the only sound as the door closed behind him, leaving him in the dim yellow light. Hardly anyone ever used this, unless Clint decided to race the elevator to the bottom. The archer always lost. Two floors later, the soldier stepped into his apartment. It was just as he had left it, thankfully.

He shrugged out of his jacket and left it draped over the back of the couch as he passed. He was walking on cloud nine, his heart lighter than it had been in a long time. A buzz in his pocket reminded him of what had apparently been several missed alls during the night. Each call had left a voicemail as well. A tiny tendril of worry emerged in his mind, wrapping around his throat.

"Steve? This is Peggy's husband, Thomas. Uh, things aren't looking too good for her, so if you get this message, please come to the hospital. You know where her room is." The tendril tightened its hold, and suddenly cloud nine was a vapor in the wind.

"Steve, please respond if you get these. Peggy may not make it. Thanks," the ground fell out from under him.

"She's doing very badly, the doctors are saying it may have been a stroke. Please call back, she wants to see you." He was falling out of the sky.

"Peggy just passed away. I'm sorry. Please call soon." He hit the ground.

" **End of voicemail** ," blared in his ear and he hung up the phone. Rogers immediately pulled his jacket back on and pressed the button for the elevator.

"JARVIS," he called, "speed it up, please. I need to go." The doors slid open as he finished. His stomach rose to his throat as the elevator dropped, eventually gliding to a stop on the garage floor. He ran to his Harley and started it as he pulled on his helmet and clipped the straps on. The wind whistled in his ears as he sped out of the garage and in the direction of the hospital.

A small group of people of varying ages were crowded around the room. He felt like an outsider; these people were her family, and here he was, a past love coming back to offer lame condolences.

"Steve," an old man stepped forward, holding out his hand. "Thomas," he nodded as they shook hands.

"I'm so sorry," the soldier could feel the family watching him. "Is there anything I can do for you?" All he wanted to do was go back to the tower and grieve, but he had to be there for her family.

"No, no," her husband sighed. "Here, have a seat." He motioned at a pair of chairs next to them. "She always had to be first, didn't she?" Thomas smiled almost to himself as he eased into the chair. Rogers realized that he was probably older than the man next to him, but at the same time he was ages and ages younger.

"She did," he replied. "She always was."

He ended up staying the rest of the night, driving home as the sun reclaimed the sky. It was nearly seven in the morning when he collapsed into bed, exhausted and full of old memories and new pains.

Rogers woke up again at noon to the sound of his phone ringing. He picked it up before he checked to see who it was.

"Hello?" His voice sounded terrible, he noticed. Talking half the night did that, he thought.

"Hey, Steve, the service is going to be this Wednesday at ten. Could I ask you to prepare a eulogy?"

"Yeah, yeah, I can definitely do that." He rubbed a hand down his face. Five days to write about Peggy.

"Thank you so much, I'm sorry to bother you."

"It isn't a problem, Tom." The two of them had developed a mutual relationship through Peggy over the course of the few hours they had spent together.

"I'll, uh, let you go, then. Thanks again."

"See you then," Steve sighed as the line went dead. It was only a couple of seconds before his phone vibrated again. A text from Natasha stared him in the face.

" **You gonna work out today, sleepyhead**?" He sat up as he remembered that he was missing a meeting with Nat and Bucky. They always sparred in the afternoons. A groan left him as he got up and pulled on a gray shirt and black shorts. The exercise would clear his head, even though he really wanted to stay in bed for the rest of eternity.

"You sleep enough?" Romanoff asked as he walked in. She dodged a punch from Barnes and then moved to the edge of the ring. "I knew I should have put you to bed when I took Tony," she grinned, though her eyes were searching his face. "When's your bedtime, seven?"

"Nah, six. That's why he eats dinner at four-thirty." Bucky was quietly retaping his hands.

"You're just as old as I am, Buck." Steve stifled a yawn and waved a hand at them. "Go back to whatever you were doing, I have to warm up." He pulled an arm across his chest, feeling the stretch in his shoulder. It was odd, how Nat was treating him the same as ever. He had hoped that something would be different after last night, but apparently not.

"You done yet?" Bucky called after fifteen minutes. Rogers had been hoping that they wouldn't notice that he was avoiding actually exercising.

"Yeah, I'm good," he muttered as he stepped into the ring. He had already taped his hands, so they jumped right in. Romanoff slid out as Buck threw the first punch. Steve barely blocked it and sent a clumsy kick into his friend's calf, feeling the impact rattle up to his hip. He winced as a fist hit him square in the chest.

The rest of the session went like that; him making stupid mistakes and not paying enough attention. Natasha grabbed him in the hall outside. "What happened?" She looked up at him.

"I didn't sleep much," he sighed, "stuff happened last night, and I didn't get back until seven."

"Where were you?" She released his arm.

"The hospital." He cast his gaze to the floor as the backs of his eyes started to burn. "Peggy died last night. She had a stroke."

"Steve," Nat murmured.

He shook his head. "It'll pass. I just didn't sleep well."

"Okay," she pressed her lips together. "I'll leave you alone, then." And so she did. Her footsteps were just retreating when Rogers turned back into the gym and hooked up a punching bag.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone! Apologies about the post last night; it had format issues and things that I couldn't fix until now. Here's chapter 2!**

Natasha sighed as she watched him get hit yet again. Steve was struggling to even keep up. Bucky noticed as well and stepped back, lowering his fists.

"No, no, keep going." Rogers shook his hands out.

"You sure?" Barnes was uncertain, and so was Nat. The fight didn't go any better the next time around, either. She could see that Steve's heart just wasn't in it. "Let's call it a day," she finally said. "I have to go, anyways,"

"Sounds good to me," Rogers sounded almost relieved, she noted. Bucky nodded without a word, his eyes on his friend. The Winter Soldier was the first one out. Steve soon followed.

"What happened?" She grabbed his arm, pulling him back. His face was carefully blank, she noticed.

"I didn't sleep much," he sighed. His guard seemed to drop then, showing a heaviness in his eyes that she hadn't seen before. "Stuff happened last night, and I didn't get back until seven." She silently debated whether or not to ask anymore questions.

"Where were you?" Nat felt terrible for prying, but she wanted to know.

"The hospital," his gaze left hers to wander the floor. Probably holding back, bottling up. His voice was on the edge of cracking as he said, "Peggy died last night. She had a stroke." She wanted to help, but didn't know what to say. The agent had meant so much to him.

"Steve," was all she could get out before he was shaking his head.

"It'll pass. I just didn't sleep well."

"Okay," she pressed her lips together. She had known him for a while now, but still didn't know how he truly operated. Would he want her to stay, or would he want to be alone? "I'll leave you alone, then." His gaze burned into her back as she walked away. He would hide. He wore his heart on his sleeve, but it was also his armor. People didn't look past the caring, respectful Captain on the outside. Steve Rogers was a different story.

Natasha quietly walked into her room and turned on her TV. She didn't have anywhere to be; she had just wanted to end the session. They rarely practiced together if one of the three wasn't present. _American Ninja Warrior_ was on, and she sat down on the floor in front of it. She hardly felt the stretch as she reached forward and wrapped both hands around her feet. She really didn't know what to do with Steve.

"Hello?"

"I need advice," she blurted.

"Wow, Natasha Romanoff, in need of advice? I never thought the day would come. Just let me put on my Dr. Phil hat." Clint paused for a moment. "Alright, what's going on?"

"Uh, Steve lost Peggy last night."

"Where did he lose her?"

" _Clint_ ," she admonished.

"Oh, Jesus, I didn't realize, sorry. I'm really sad to hear that now. So, lemme guess, he's trying to act all macho and like it's all okay,"

"Pretty much,"

"I mean, he probably feels like he has to. Tony's got his eye on that spot, and weakness is going to make him think he can take it." The archer sighed. "I don't really know what to tell you, Tasha. Keep an eye on him."

The line fell silent as both of them tried to think the situation through. "How about this," Barton started. "Bring him to the farm, take a break."

"I don't want to do that to Laura," Natasha trailed off. It was a good idea.

"Just come out here, I was going to invite you down anyways. I finally finished the sunroom."

"I'll see if he can." She pulled a knee up to her chest.

"Just tell Fury you'll be out for a couple of weeks. Leave tomorrow?"

"We can't; he's got Peggy's funeral at some point."

"Right, uh, just come down whenever. Okay?"

"Okay," she murmured. "Oh, and get off the phone in the car."

"Oops?"

"I can't believe you're inviting us without telling Laura,"

"I invited the whole team once, I don't think she or the kids will mind you and Steve."

"Sure," she smiled as they said their goodbyes and hung up. Clint was always so good to everyone.

The next day brought rain. Natasha stared out her window as she waited for the coffee maker to finish. It was a dreary, dull day; the kind that made her want to stay in and sleep. She had already slept in enough as it was: the clocks read ten-thirty. Sundays were always her rest days. She didn't meet Steve and Bucky to spar; she stayed in the tower or went out to do something nice for herself. Today seemed like a movie day.

She glanced over as her phone chimed. A text from Wanda lit up her screen. " **Lunch w/ me and Buck?** " The spy felt a twinge of amusement. The two were constantly together, and often liked to take a friend along on their "outings" so that they couldn't be called dates. They were funny like that.

" **Sure. Meet at 11:45?** "

" **N the rec room. See u then :)** " Romanoff smiled and turned from the window to get her coffee. She could watch movies later. Besides, there was a large chance that Steve would be dragged along. Not that she would admit that he was the main reason why she wanted to go. The coffee warmed her body as it went down.

Natasha found the time to watch an episode of _Say Yes to the Dress_ and finish her drink before she stood and stretched. Her footsteps were silent as she walked into her room and opened her closet door. It took a few minutes of digging, but she eventually found something to wear. She tugged on a pair of red capris and pulled a black tee shirt, electing to leave her hoodie off until they left. Half an episode of _Say Yes_ later, she left her apartment and went to the rec floor. Wanda and Bucky were sitting at the bar, while Steve was sitting on the couch poring over a book.

"Hey," she said, moving to sit next to Maximoff.

"Hello," the witch smiled. "How does Chinese food sound?"

"That's good with me," Romanoff nodded. "Steve, are you coming?"

"What?" The soldier looked up, his eyes bleary from reading. "Yeah, I am."

"So does that make this a double date?" Natasha grinned as the other two immediately protested. Rogers gave a small smile and put his reading down.

"Of course not," Wanda stood. "This is just something to do as friends."

"Whatever you say, lovebird." The spy winked. She glanced over at Steve, who was shrugging on his jacket over a blue shirt. The jacket was his usual leather one; her favorite. Her own hoodie was warm in odd places from holding it as she put it on. The four of them found their way to a Chinese restaurant, thankful for a respite from the rain. Nat rolled her eyes as Barnes kicked a puddle, getting some water on Maximoff and making her squeal.

"How are you doing?" She looked over at Rogers, who shrugged.

"I'm alright," the soldier was watching the cars race past, his face turned away just enough to hide.

"That's good." Romanoff reached over and grabbed his hand, loosely intertwining their fingers. He immediately looked at her, his ears turning pink. His eyes eventually wandered back to the street while hers returned to the two in front of them. Both had completely soaked shoes and bright smiles. They arrived at the restaurant a couple of minutes later, getting dirty looks from the workers as they tracked in water.

"So," Bucky started as they walked out half an hour later. "What do we do now?" Tiny droplets were starting to fall on their heads. Natasha pulled her hood up as Steve opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it.

"I'd prefer to get out of the rain," the spy shoved her hands into her pockets. Rogers nodded in agreement. He looked like he was itching to go.

"We could go to the mall," Wanda suggested.

"I think I'm going to go ahead and go back," Nat waved a hand at her as her face fell. "You three can stay out and do whatever, I just wanted to come for lunch."

"Steve? You coming?" Barnes adjusted his sleeve, metal briefly flashing underneath.

"No, I think I'll walk back with Tasha. It was good having lunch with you," the soldier smiled.

"Have fun on your _date_ ," Romanoff waggled her fingers at them and turned away as the two spluttered. Steve followed, the smile still on his face. They walked in silence for a while, both in thought. She knew it wasn't like him to turn down time with a friend-especially Bucky-but she also knew he was hurting. She blinked as a large drop hitting her face drew her out of her thoughts. It was really starting to rain now. An idea popped into her head as they stopped at a light.

"What are you doing?" She asked as he started to pull his jacket off. "Keep that on, it's cold."

"Which is why I'm putting it on you, silly." He wrapped the jacket around her shoulders and pulled her into his side. "Can't have you catching a cold in this."

"Steve, really, it's alright." She started to pull the jacket off. "Besides, you don't catch a cold unless you actually get sick."

He kept it tight around her shoulders. "Just wear it, then. I'm fine, I promise."

She could hardly look up at him through all the rain, which had soaked them through by this point. And then they were given the signal to go and she grabbed his hand, pulling him across the street.

"Come on!" Natasha tugged him along with one hand, using the other to keep his jacket around her. Sure, they were both sopping wet and wanting to go home, but why not make it fun? "Let's see how fast we can get back!" _Besides_ , she thought, _he could use some cheering up._

So they ran back to the tower, laughing the whole time. Steve made it to the door first and pushed inside, nearly knocking Tony over in the process. The brunet stumbled back as the two burst in.

"What are you doing?" He exclaimed.

"Walking in. What are you doing?" Nat brushed past him, making sure to flick her soaked hair at him. He shrunk away from the droplets and turned to watch them step onto the elevator. Her cool facade dropped as soon as the door closed and she burst into laughter. Steve joined in and they were starting to wonder why the elevator hadn't moved when they realized that the button hadn't been pressed.

"What a joke," the redhead wrung her hair out onto the floor and kicked her shoes off as they started to rise. She looked up to see Rogers watching her, a quiet smile on his face.

And then they jolted to a stop and the doors slid open. He gathered her into a hug and pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Thanks," he breathed as he released her. She nodded and slipped out of the tiny room, remembering his jacket as soon as the doors closed between them. He had probably done that on purpose.

She thought back over the day as she peeled her clothes off and stepped into the shower. Steve had seemed to be alright, though definitely melancholy. She couldn't blame him. He had every reason to be upset. But, she decided, he was still going to need watching.

The plans she and Clint had made came to her mind as she dumped her clothes in the laundry chute, choosing to keep Steve's jacket. It was mostly dry on the inside and felt incredibly comfortable. It also smelled like him, which was a plus. Her thoughts returned to the plans after a few moments of simply curling up in the jacket, however. She picked up her phone, thankful for waterproof cases, and dialed Fury's number.

"Hey, I need to know if Steve has any big missions in the next three weeks," she said.

"Why is that?" Of course the director would get defensive.

"Because he's taking a vacation. Don't tell him, but clear his schedule for a couple of weeks." She could hear him audibly sigh on the other end.

"This had better be good, Romanoff." She hung up a couple seconds later. Now, all she had to do was wait.

The next several days passed without incident, though Rogers remained in his depressed state. Things got especially bad the day before Peggy's funeral, as he appeared in her room under the pretext of retrieving his jacket, though he truly just needed her comfort. He looked miserable the next morning as he stopped by on his way out.

As soon as he was gone, Natasha crept up to his room and set her trap.

She was curled up on his couch watching Chopped when he walked in. He blinked at her, and the spy quickly noticed how red and swollen his eyes were. He had obviously been crying.

"As much as I love to see you in Class A's," she said in reference to his uniform, "you kind of need to change clothes."

His eyes settled on the suitcases near his bedroom door. "What is this? Are we going somewhere?"

She beamed up at him, feeling a pinch of fear that he would say no. "We're going on a road trip," she said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello! Sorry for the delay; I had band camp. Enjoy!**

"A road trip?" He gaped at her. "To where? Why?"

"Yes, Steve, a road trip. To Clint's, and just to get away." She stood and started to unbutton his jacket.

"I have work to do this week," he murmured. "How long?"

"It's all fine, I contacted Fury and you've been cleared." The jacket slid off of his shoulders and she tossed it over the back of the couch.

"Natasha," he caught her by the waist and pulled her close. "When do we leave?"

"Whenever you're ready," she put a hand on his chest and laced her fingers around his neck. "It doesn't matter."

"Then I think I'd like to delay that a little," he felt as if every nerve was igniting, burning away the grief of the morning. One of her hands found his cheek and ran into his hair. He pushed her back and against the couch.

"Oh really? For how long?"

"Just a little," he leaned in close. "Not like we have anywhere to be." She pulled him down and kissed him before he could speak any more. He could have sworn that he was floating, he felt so light.

They broke apart, breathless, and she put her hands on the back of the couch, soon to be covered by his. "God, you're amazing," he breathed.

"I get that from all the guys I take on trips," she smiled as he kissed her forehead and stepped back.

"You do this often?" He could feel a tiny twinge of jealousy, though he tried to suppress it. He could never truly have her only to himself. She had her past loves and he had his.

"Only one other guy. The others weren't worth taking," she watched him disappear into his room. "Or they didn't last long enough," he soon reappeared, tugging a clean shirt over his head.

"You trying to say something?" He cast a glance over at her as he started to pick up their bags.

"Yeah. Trying to tell you that you're better than all of my past dates." She padded over to the elevator and tapped the button. His ears were burning as he stepped in behind her.

"Which car?" She asked when they entered the garage, gesturing at the rows of sportscars and fancy SUVs.

"Your pick," he watched her move down the middle aisle. She was beautiful, her hair loose around her shoulders and her bearing relaxed. Romanoff eventually stopped next to an Aston Martin convertible and slid inside, pulling the keys out of the glovebox. Tony was too lazy to keep the keys in one place, so he left them in the cars they belonged to.

Steve tossed their bags in the back and took the driver's seat. Half an hour later they were cruising out of the city and heading south. Natasha was happily singing along with the radio, her hair blowing in the wind. They had opened up the convertible soon after leaving and were enjoying the nice day.

"Come on, Steeeeve," she bumped his arm. "Have some fun!"

"I already am," he didn't look away from the road. "Listening to you is fun enough."

"Oh, sure," she tapped the door of the car in time with the music. A new song started and a smile spread across her face. "At least sing to Uptown Funk,"

"Fine, just this," he rolled his eyes. They ended up singing until a storm rolled through and they had to rush to roll up the convertible. The rain became too heavy to continue driving, so Rogers pulled over and turned on the hazard lights.

"What is this?" Nat laughed as the heavy drops hit around them, filling the car with racket and covering the radio.

"Rain, apparently," he looked over at her. She turned, her gray gaze meeting his blue one.

A devilish grin broke out on her face. "Chinese fire drill?"

"Okay?" He blinked as she jumped out of the car and quickly followed, standing for a moment and trying to figure out what she was doing.

"Run!" She pushed him down the side of the car. He raced around and dove back into the driver's seat. They were both dripping wet.

"Who comes up with these things?" He exclaimed, flicking his hair out of his eyes.

"I have no idea," she leaned back in the seat, panting. "Probably stupid teenagers."

"Aren't we a little old for that?" Steve turned the heater on and peeled his shirt off, tossing it into the back seat. They could dry out the car later.

"We're a little old for a lot of stuff," she straightened up and her eyes settled on him and then they were all over each other and the car was too small but also just right and the rain was still falling and the radio playing a tiny harmony in the background.

It was seven hours later when they pulled off of the highway. The radio was silent now, as was the sky. The stars gazed warmly down at them as Natasha stirred and mumbled a couple of directions and then went back to sleep. Rogers yawned as he avoided a hole in the road. He was missing his partner's company, though he wanted her to sleep fine. He quietly cursed the government as he hit a rough patch in the road. His taxes obviously weren't going to road maintenance. Their turn eventually appeared and led onto a narrow gravel road.

"Fletcher's Way?" Romanoff stretched and sat up straighter.

"Should be," Steve slowed down as the trees thinned. A deer watched them pass, and then dashed back into the woods.

"This is it," the redhead pulled her shoes and jacket on. The road led to a driveway with the Barton home at the end of it.

"Hey, kiddos," Clint walked up to the car as they were unloading. He put an arm around Nat's shoulders and hugged her lightly. "Did you have a good drive?"

"Pretty good, yeah," Romanoff smiled. "Carry this?" She held out her bag. The archer rolled his eyes and took it.

"You two sharing a room or...?" He glanced between the two of them. Steve would never understand how the two acted so easily around each other.

"Doesn't matter," Rogers shrugged.

"Sharing it is," Barton grinned and led them inside. He trudged up the stairs and showed them a room. "I'll leave you to it," he winked.

"Whatever," Steve dropped his bag on the floor and flopped down on the bed. Natasha disappeared into the attached bathroom and soon returned in fresh clothing. She laid down next to him and put her head on his shoulder.

"He's just teasing," she murmured. The soldier smiled and let out a long sigh.

"I know," he mumbled. They soon dozed off and didn't wake up until the sun was well across the sky.


	4. Chapter 4

Natasha woke to the sounds of children playing in the yard. She blinked in the dim lighting and yawned blearily. Steve was still asleep, lying on his left side with one hand splayed across her stomach. She quietly eased out of the bed and stretched before walking downstairs to the kitchen, which turned out to be deserted. The spy hummed quietly to herself as she made some toast and started a pot of coffee. Scents from that morning's breakfast still lingered as she made her own, telling of bacon and eggs and the laughter of the family, she thought. She winced as a toy crunched under her foot, the plastic digging into her skin. Yes, definitely laughter.

A clock blinked 11:30 at her as the toast popped up and the coffee machine dinged a couple moments later. It wasn't surprising that they had slept so late; it had been past midnight when they arrived. Her breakfast was spent in silence except for the creaking of the house and the sounds of the outside world. An occasional ball or frisbee would fly past the window, catching her eye with bright colors and patterns. The Barton kids always did love their sports, just like their father. The refrigerator was decorated with drawings and photos of the older kids in their little league uniforms or posing with a swim team. Sometimes she wanted this life; centered around children and simply being a family. Other times she was beyond glad that this wasn't what she had. It was too many strings, too much holding her down.

Clint walked in and looked surprised to see her awake. "You sleep well?" He swung a chair away from the table and sat down in it backwards.

"Yeah, just fine." Romanoff smiled. "I see that the kids are awake."

"They're enjoying their Friday off." A thump against the side of the house distracted him for a moment. "I swear, if they break a window," he shook his head.

"Just get Steve to fix it," she picked the crust off of her toast.

The archer gave a noncommital shrug. "Where is the old man, anyways? I never knew him to be a late sleeper."

"He's still asleep, as far as I know."

"Wonderful. So, I built a new firepit and wanted to try it out at some point. Tonight good?" Barton's eyes were focused outside the back window.

"Yeah, not like we have any plans." Nat took a swig of her coffee.

"Awesome. The kids are going to need s'mores, of course, so we'll grill and then have a fire." This was one of the times that she kind of wanted a life like this. It would be nice to be settled in and be able to have a bonfire anytime she wanted.

"Do you or Laura need help with anything? We don't want to just mooch and not help out at all." She surpressed a laugh as another thump had the archer up and out the door.

He soon returned carrying a kid under his arm. "I could use some firewood cut and a bit of heavy lifting done," he sat down as if his back was hurt. "You know I'm getting a bit old for that kind of stuff."

"Yeah, sure, and that means I need to take up knitting for my grandchildren." Barton rolled his eyes as Lila wriggled out of his grasp and ran over to Natasha. "Can I braid your hair?" She looked up at her pleadingly. "Mommy just taught me how,"

"Of course, if you think it's long enough." The spy smiled as the girl cheered and moved behind her.

"Your hair's so soft," she whispered. Natasha looked over to see Clint watching his daughter, nothing but pride and love in his eyes. Yes, it would definitely be nice to have a child to be proud of. But a child was just another weight around her ankles that prevented her from taking to the skies at any moment. Three attempts later, Lila gave up and elected to sit next to her father. Romanoff didn't dare take out the braid that had been messily tied in her hair, as she feared it would break the little girl's heart.

"Well, I think we're going to head back outside. Cooper's probably about to drive your mother crazy," his last sentence was directed at Lila.

"Will you come outside?" She looked over at Nat, who nodded and stood.

"Just let me get dressed," the spy tucked her dishes into the dishwasher and started upstairs, keeping her tread silent in case Rogers was still asleep. It was odd sometimes, being with him. He was hesitant at times and completely comfortable at others. Sometimes experienced, sometimes completely new. Perhaps it was him in those moments of comfort and an older habit in his hesitancy. It wouldn't be a surprise, seeing as to how he was stuck in two different times. Or it could be a desire not to lose what they had through his own mistakes. She had seen flickers of jealousy in him ever since she was with Bruce, and she wondered if that was the reason why.

The room was just as she had left it, their bags on the floor and Steve sprawled out across the bed. Romanoff gathered what she needed and stepped into the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind her. The spy tugged her hair out of the braid and then put it into a ponytail before brushing her teeth and pulling on some shorts and a tee. She quickly checked her reflection as she opened the door, and then walked right into Rogers. He looked like he was still half asleep.

"You sleep alright?" She asked as she squeezed past and dropped her stuff into her suitcase. He half nodded and rubbed at one eye as he disappeared into the bathroom. Romanoff smiled to herself as she grabbed a pair of sunglasses and left the room. Steve was most definitely a morning riser, but not a morning person. She exited the house to see Clint hurling a frisbee into the air. It flew away, and then was caught in the wind and came right back. It never ceased to amaze her how he could predict the path of travel and the air currents the way he did. Yes, he was only human, but he was beyond skilled.

"Aunt Nat!" Cooper exclaimed, running over and hugging her around the waist.

"Hey, Coop," she squeezed him for a moment and then he was back in the yard yelling for her to watch this, watch this, and watch this she did as the kid started to juggle a soccer ball. He went on for a little while and then punted the ball straight into the air.

"Very nice," Natasha gave him two thumbs up as she walked over to sit on the porch next to Laura. Nathaniel was happily flipping through a cardboard book, occasionally babbling and poking a picture.

"Hey, how was the drive?" Laura took her hand for a moment. "No problems, right?"

"It was just fine. Have you been doing alright?"

"Oh, yes. We've all been great. Clint gets a little stir-crazy from time to time, but that's about it."

"Typical. He can't go long without some kind of stimulation." Nathaniel scooted over and reached up at her, asking to be held. The spy smiled and picked him up. "Goodness, you're getting chunky." She bounced him in her lap, eliciting a gurgle.

"What was that?" Barton called.

"Nothing, nothing," Romanoff replied. The two women exchanged a glance and burst into laughter as the archer muttered something to himself and threw a football at Cooper. Steve soon appeared and sat down on the porch steps, staring out over the fields in the distance.

"He doing okay?" Laura whispered.

"I think so," Natasha pressed her lips together. "He lost Peggy around a week ago and I'm not sure how well he's handling it." The other nodded and they fell silent. Nathaniel soon became bored and was placed back on the floor.

The family ended up staying outside the rest of the day, playing various games and at one point simply stretching out on the grass and gazing at the clouds. Romanoff thoroughly enjoyed herself, though there was a constant nagging in the back of her head. What if Steve wasn't handing it so well? She made sure to keep an eye on the soldier. And then it was dark and the grill was turned off and dinner eaten and everyone sitting around the fire that Clint was attempting to build.

It was actually a fairly comical sight. Out of all things, the archer was unable to start a fire. He tried everything, even rubbing sticks together to entertain the kids.

"You sure you can do that?" Rogers stood and walked over to crouch next to his friend. Nat watched them in the half light, the shadows filling their faces. It was odd, seeing Steve with eyes hidden in the dark and his cheekbones oddly defined. He looked so much older; so much more tired. Perhaps that was what he always looked like, it was just hidden in the light. The spy felt a twinge inside of her as another thought occured: maybe that was how he always saw life.

"Yeah, no, maybe, probably not," the smaller of the two handed over his tools. It was only a matter of moments before the soldier had lit a small pile of kindling and was gently blowing on it to give the flame life. Suddenly his eyes were glittering and his face in a normal light again. He looked pleased and eventually had a full fire going. Barton had picked a seat next to Laura and was quetly talking to her. The older kids were out trying to catch lightning bugs while the baby was cradled in his mother's arms.

Rogers took a seat next to the redhead and let out a long breath. She looked up at him and then back at the fire. It was growing still, occasionally popping and sending a cloud of embers floating into the night. They didn't look much unlike the fireflies that the children were trying to jar. Romanoff found herself scooting closer to the fire as the temperature dropped and her windbreaker became too thin to provide any help. She hugged her knees to her chest and felt the warmth on her face, the smoke making her eyes tired. The spy let her eyes slide closed only to open again as Steve sat down next to her and wrapped her in his jacket and pulled her close.

"Thanks," he murmured, his lips close to her ear.

"For what?" She leaned into him.

"Bringing me-showing me," he paused. "I guess showing me how to feel again."


End file.
